


I'll Come Home to You

by hopeless_eccentric



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Canon Non-Binary Character, Character Study, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Nonbinary Juno Steel, Other, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, kind of, little spoon Juno Steel RIGHTS, simp juno steel, sleepy morning cuddles aboard the carte blanche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25298242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_eccentric/pseuds/hopeless_eccentric
Summary: Finding a home aboard the Carte Blanche was as much about changing his definition of home as it was getting comfortable in his new room. Before he left Mars, home was distinctly a place.Now, home was wrapped around him from behind, soft breath tickling his neck and clever hands limp around his waist. Home’s chest rose and fell gently in the early morning light, silent save for the occasional sleepy murmur or sigh.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 24
Kudos: 192





	I'll Come Home to You

**Author's Note:**

> My google doc for this fic is literally called "somebody pls hold me" so uh. Taking girlfriend applications in the comments
> 
> Title from Work Song by Hozier

When Juno awoke, it was not at the hands of an alarm or the settling of the ship. He blinked away dreamless sleep as he squinted against the sim-sunlight peeking into the room. 

Juno distinctly remembered teasing Nureyev for turning the light to a setting that would make it appear dappled with leaves, though he couldn’t find it in himself to complain now. The soft golden glow was a gentle hand anointing the room. 

It was nothing at all like Mars, but that itself was comforting. Some days, he almost missed the lullaby of traffic and the rooster’s crow of the city buzz. Most days, he considered himself lucky to be far away from any of it. 

Juno had found a kind of home in transience. Though he had what could be called a home in his quarters, given that he slept there most nights and used it as a living space, even that was always moving. The Carte Blanche never made home on one planet for long. More often than not, even Juno’s one little constant refuge was sailing through the stars at unimaginable speeds. 

It was comforting to know that he would never be tied to a place again, and simultaneously, have a warm bed to call his own. 

Finding a home aboard the Carte Blanche was as much about changing his definition of home as it was getting comfortable in his new room. Before he left Mars, home was distinctly a place. 

Now, home was wrapped around him from behind, soft breath tickling his neck and clever hands limp around his waist. Home’s chest rose and fell gently in the early morning light, silent save for the occasional sleepy murmur or sigh. 

If Juno had awoken there with no memory of falling asleep in that position, he would have still known exactly who lay behind him. He would have known Peter Nureyev by touch or smell or presence alone. The man took such time and care to present himself, guarding and suppressing every emotion that disagreed with his chosen image. When total comfort laid him bare, it was impossible to forget. 

Juno tried not to shift too much and wake him, finding little difficulty in the task. He might as well have been melted into the mattress, and he doubted getting up would be a small endeavor. 

Perhaps it was the shift in his breathing. Perhaps it was the muffled glowing of the sim-sun into the otherwise dark room. With a tiny stretch and a sigh so sweet it broke Juno’s heart, Nureyev awoke. 

“Morning,” Nureyev murmured, his speech drawn out by a yawn. Juno could only imagine how beautiful he looked, hair tousled and cheek blessed by the soft light. 

Now without fear of waking him, Juno cuddled a little closer. Peter tightened the hug that had fallen loose with sleep, though the hand that had rested on Juno’s waist fell away. Its absence hung voidlike in the air, until Juno felt the fingertips against his scalp, and all was right in the world once more. 

Nureyev’s fingers ran in lazy circles around his scalp, the pressure just enough to coax a soft sigh from his chest. Occasionally, when Peter was feeling generous, he would press manicured nails against Juno’s scalp and gingerly scratch. 

His touch was light, as if a press of his finger might shatter Juno entirely. Juno didn’t mind being handled in such a way. A few years ago, he couldn’t have imagined waking up to strong, deadly arms holding him close and playing with his hair. But here he was. 

Home seldom takes the form one expects. 

“You’re too sweet to me,” he murmured, a lazy grin spilling across his face. He could feel Peter’s head raise behind him. 

“Would you prefer I not be playing with your hair right now?” Peter teased, though it was undercut by another yawn. 

“No, no, pretend I didn’t say anything,” Juno chuckled. “You sound tired. Rough night?” 

“And whose fault is that?”

Juno snorted. “Yours, if I’m remembering right.”

He could practically feel Nureyev’s eye roll. 

“I take no responsibility for how lovely you are,” Nureyev murmured as he relaxed once more, words dancing against the top of his head. “It’s not my fault I fell in love with a goddess.” 

“Go back to sleep. You’re getting sappy,” Juno groaned, though his laughter betrayed his feigned annoyance. 

“Given the options of sleeping in or playing with your hair, I’d much rather choose the latter.” 

Juno couldn’t complain about that.

They carried on in silence for some time, so warm and close that Juno almost wondered if he would ever be able to separate from the embrace. A significant part of him never wanted the moment to end. He wanted to die right here with his head against Peter’s chest and those deft fingers playing with his curls. 

He felt Nureyev shift, however, and feared the worst. Some urge of hunger or thirst must have come to break them apart, and after such a brief stint together. 

But instead of a chasm beside him where Nureyev once was, he felt a pair of silk-soft lips kiss his brow. 

Juno hummed, his eyes falling closed as a lazy smile overtook his face. 

“Did you just kiss my head?” Juno teased. 

“In my defense, it’s a very good head.”

Juno snorted, though his laughter was short-lived. Nureyev had taken him by the hand and given it a little squeeze, and Juno seemed unable to think of anything other than that. 

It was becoming unbearable not to look at Peter’s face in that soft morning light, so Juno turned around in his arms. Shifting and ending the contact of Nureyev’s fingers to his head should have been a crime, but Juno found it was one he was willing to commit if it meant looking upon his partner. 

“Good morning,” he grinned. The reply was a smile so soft it left him breathless. 

“Has anyone told you how beautiful you are lately?” Peter all but sighed. One hand replaced itself on Juno’s face, thumb running absentmindedly on a scar adorning his cheekbone. 

When Juno was a lot younger, he’d hated that scar. It was the first in a long line of marks he couldn’t ever leave behind, and he’d spent hours fighting it with makeup until he gave up entirely. 

Peter, on the other hand, adored it. It was where his lips fell when he kissed Juno’s cheek and where his thumb liked to run along when holding his face. He said it was a brushstroke upon a masterpiece, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Juno hated that scar a lot less now. 

“Only once every fifteen minutes,” Juno joked, though his attempt at ribbing fell flat with just how breathless he sounded. 

“My apologies if I become redundant, but I’m afraid there are only so many words,” Nureyev began. He paused to kiss Juno’s forehead once more. “And you are a much more lovely subject than can be described in any known human tongue.” 

“You’re a sap,” Juno murmured, words muffled now that his head was buried in Nureyev’s chest. 

“You love it.”

Juno grinned and shifted once more in Nureyev’s arms. He didn’t regret this change in position, especially not when their lips met. 

It wasn’t the best kiss of his life, not by a long shot. His neck was craned at an odd angle, and at this point, the pair of them were more tangled than cuddling. He could worry about that later. For now, he was much more preoccupied with those impossibly soft lips falling into his. 

Juno didn’t mind that their noses bumped once or twice or that they got off balance when he became a little too enthusiastic or that Nureyev had to pause to laugh at him for it. 

The kiss felt like coming home, and that was what mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Make sure to smash that kudos button, leave a comment down below, and don't forget to stay awesome!!
> 
> If you want to come yell with me about Little Spoon Juno Steel, my tumblr is @hopeless-eccentric


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